Horse of the Year 2025 Part 3: Nooitie Ridden

 With my young horse out of the way for the day, I could relax and focus on my beautifully behaved, impeccably schooled, super docile and sweet 18-year-old horse.

Ha. Hahahahahaha.

No, seriously, though, Arwen was being really super. She had loaded and traveled in the four-berth for K and BarnRat in the dark (as had dear little Raya, and of course Rene and Faith), and Dad had brought them over to the show for me. (If he ever thought he was going to get out of the horse show dad thing, well, sorry, Dad. You're the one who paid for those first few lessons when I was four, after all. You're stuck with this now.)

Anyway, Arwen had arrived with a bellyful of omepracote and not a drop of sweat on her, so she was all but spotless when I started prepping her for our first class of the day - the open show riding. Erin had shown me how to use this other magic stuff called Wampum to make her legs white, and boy, did I ever make them white. After quickly getting Rene ready, I spent a peaceful half-hour in Arwen's stable, fussing and primping until she looked perfect. Arwen enjoyed (or at least tolerated) the attention, and for once, we looked pretty professional as I tacked her up and headed to the warmup.

Rene and her kiddo were in the show ring---her kiddo was on the wrong diagonal for the entire show, but she's a level-headed, independent rider who handled herself admirably with minimal support from me---and I could focus on Arwen, who had immediately forgotten that she was a Quiet Old Show Horse and proceeded to dragon-snort and do a few handstands for my benefit. Desperate not to get her all sweaty and gross, I did a bunch of trot work with walk breaks to bring her down to a dull roar, but I wasn't worried. She wasn't holding any tension in her body or calling to friends; she was just doing what she always does, reveling in her own fierce glory.

After a few minutes' work, she settled right down and started to behave like a good girl. I'd switched her back into the double bridle after her fussiness in the Nathe and it was paying off. I had to be aware of my hands and occasionally work to pick up her head, but we were doing just fine, and I felt relaxed and confident as we went in.

Last year, I remember her not putting a foot wrong in the show riding class. This year was more of the same. Honestly, it was one of my favorite show experiences of my life. We were so in tune. I felt like I barely had to touch her to get her to do anything---I would just think it, and it would happen. She finds this work so effortless compared to the dressage that she felt like she was just floating around, barely breaking a sweat.

The judge pulled us out second after the rail, which I expected, as our main competitor was a beautiful and powerfully moving horse but not as experienced as Arwen. I hoped we might be able to ride ourselves up to the red ribbon in the individual test. Erin had helped me to work out a fancy little test that really shows off the dragon well, and I was excited to ride it.

Our competitor went first and showed off his truly breathtaking movement, but had a little moment of tension. I thought if Arwen went well we might have it in the bag.

Arwen did not go well---she went perfectly. She had, of course, gleefully memorized the test, and I tried to sit there and look pretty while she did it mostly on her own. We walked out, changed rein in trot, and gave an extended trot down the long side that felt absolutely glorious. Then we had a lovely obedient canter transition into the first loop of a serpentine, where we halted, reined back, and proceeded in canter. I put the reins in one hand at this point and we did our change through trot with one hand, followed by an extended canter down the long side, trot, and halt, all with one hand. Her way of going never changed (helped a bit by the double) and she was impeccably obedient. I couldn't have been happier or prouder of her.

Nonetheless, we didn't quite edge into the lead. The judge pinned us second and said that we did a very good job, but I needed to add a lip strap to the curb and wipe my bits before going in. We also came nowhere in the championship. 

Much as I enjoy showing, this is why dressage is my sport.

It didn't really matter. My horse had just given me the ride of my life.

Faith had a really good show riding class as well but didn't place in a very big and strong novice show riding, and then it was time for us to all hack over to the other side of KPC for the working riding. By this point, I was starting to run out of energy, and faced the working riding with some trepidation. Arwen was being perfect, but winning it two years in a row has somehow made it more daunting than ever.

I hounded everyone over to the Peter Minnie because I was convinced we would be late. Then we all sat there for ages, waiting to go in, because I miscalculated. Sorry, kids. Arwen was still feeling a little spicy as we did a few working riding things in the warmup, but Faith and Rene were being admirable, and Rene's kiddo wore a mask of determination as they headed into the ring.

The determination paid off. Rene is about as bombproof as they come and performed a magnificent working riding test that rightfully won their class (or came second? I can't remember). Faith and K, too, did a really nice test and won by kilometres. And then it was time for the dragon's big moment.

My guts were all in a knot as we rode in. Arwen felt alert but focused and calm. The judge explained the test to us: mount from a mounting block, immediately canter over a small vertical, trot some trotting poles in a straight line, trot through bending poles, pick up the canter on a sharp turn away from the lineup, trot over a mat in a lane, jump a straw bale, do a trot circle with a basket, and halt between the drums at the end. It was a nice long test with plenty of room for things to go horribly wrong, but I immediately knew Arwen could handle all of it.

The other riders went admirably; only the canter transition caught out a few people because their horses wanted to drift back toward the lineup. Then it was our turn. The dragon might not stand still all that great most of the time, but she's a rock at the mounting block, so I easily popped on, sorted out my reins, and then actually found a nice distance to the jump, which was a nice surprise. We trotted the poles and bending poles in fine style. Of course, she did her canter transition perfectly and barely noticed the mat existed.

Two years ago we knocked down the straw bale jump at HOY supremes, and Arwen remembered it. She read the obstacle well this time and hopped over nicely.

She wasn't quite steady in her halts at the basket, but I played it off as well as I could, and we kept it together long enough to get a good square halt before and after. She stayed beautifully round and on the aids with one hand, too (thanks to the one-handed bits in our show riding test, I'm sure.) Her halt at the end was impeccable. People clapped. It was nice.

The judge placed us first, citing her obedience and softness in the bridle, and then it was time for the championship. Here I started to sweat all the more, but it was a good kind of nervousness, a buzz instead of a paralytic. It was a big class and Arwen had time to doze in the lineup---always a good thing for her---while everyone else went, including Rene and Faith.

The test was a bit more forward and bold than working riding usually asks for. We had to canter the jump twice on a circle like in equitation, then extend the canter down the long side, canter over the bale, trot, and halt between the drums. I immediately felt confident. Arwen is amazing at the bold and obedient parts of working riding---it's the fiddlier stuff that makes her fidget.

Rene pleasantly surprised me. Her kiddo, who is more into showjumping, was good about kicking her forward and she stayed on the right leg throughout, which always helps. It was a very nice test to watch and I was super pleased with her. Rene is 19 now with a wealth of experience and the kindest personality in the world---unsurprising that Raya turned out the way she did.

Faith's test was okay, but not world-shaking, with no major mistakes but a bit of trepidation on her part about having to go fast. The other riders were really solid as well and I knew I'd need to ride for my life if Arwen was going to successfully defend her title.

Madam Dragon came out boldly. I somehow found two good distances to the jump and she landed on the correct lead despite the sharp turn we had to make to get around the trotting poles. She lengthened her canter and came back beautifully when I asked, popped over the bale without difficulty, and halted perfectly at the end. It was just a smooth, easy test and she was a superstar.

spoiler alert

Our happy surprise of the day came when they announced the reserve champion and it was Rene and her kiddo. Then Arwen got the championship. It was the second time that two Morning Star horses have been champion and reserve at HOY working riding, and it's a pretty good feeling. They brought out a whole lot of ribbons and sashes and the champagne bowl floating trophy that Arwen has won three times now. The previous two times there were carrots in the champagne bowl, and she was most unamused when it turned out to be empty this time. She checked.

"What a clever horse," said the judge, "what a clever, clever horse," and I agreed.

Then we hacked all the way back to the Stubbs arena, where Arwen and I still had some ridden classes. We'd bought entries for the best walk and best trot, and I was starting to regret it. Arwen was fine---perhaps not quite as dragonish as earlier in the day, but she'd had plenty of breaks and water and hay and still felt peppy---but I was starting to melt into a puddle of exhaustion.

She accordingly toted my exhausted puddle self around the best walk and best trot with minimal input from me, which also involved accidentally cantering a few times in the best trot. We got second and third places to round off our day and nice compliments from the judge, despite some more scolding about the missing lip strap.

That brought an end to a productive (if absolutely exhausting) day of ridden classes. It was a fantastic time with my magnificent dragonbeast. We decided to keep Rene with her to be her overnight friend as they waited for Supremes, and both girls happily ate their hay while we bundled Wynnie, Charlie, Raya, and Faith off to go home.

I was particularly pleased that she won the working riding---not just because it's always nice to get a sash, but because it gave me the opportunity to conquer my nerves in the Supremes. More on that later.

God is good.

her smug little face cracks me up

Horse of the Year 2025 Part 2: In-hand

We returned to Kyalami Park the day after the Arab classes with Wynnie and Charlie in tow. After the wild flurry that always precedes HOY, with so many horses to bath and plait and load and pack for, it was a huge relief to finally be on the road and ready to do the thing.

Charlie is a client's super cute partbred gelding and has actually never been to a show, but he's one of those people who just aren't bothered by anything, so I was confident about overnighting him. Wynnie was our earliest horse of the day on Saturday and I knew she'd overnight well because she has done so several times before. She loaded and traveled like an absolute superstar, although I'd put her ninja outfit on to keep her plaits clean and this proved to be a mistake. The poor girl sweats like her mother. She was sodden but unbothered when we got there, and neither of the two youngsters put a foot wrong when we arrived.

We found the show stables had suffered somewhat after weeks of rain and the paths in between were pretty muddy. The stables themselves were fine, but the amount of bugs gave me the heebie jeebies, so I absolutely drenched both horses in Tabard to keep the disease-carrying little blighters off. Both horses settled perfectly and were happy to nibble their hay while I got the stables set up and ready for what promised to be a chaotic following day.

We got an early start on Saturday morning. Erin kindly found time in a truly hectic schedule to come over and help with turning out Wynnie. Although Wynnie is solid bay and thus makes my life much easier, I was determined that she should look utterly spotless. If we weren't going to win the in-hand class, it sure as sugar wasn't going to be because of her turnout. I knew she had it in her to win the class and really wanted to do her justice, so I'd made an effort to improve my turnout game, which definitely included dragging Erin into it.

Before she got there, though, I made a bold effort at washing the sweat and Tabard off her from the night before. This proved easier said than done. First, when I went into the stable to feed her, Wynnie (very rudely) barged out the door and hooned around the stables, naked and feral.

"Loose horse," people yelled as she merrily trampled over the nice, professional grooming area that the Proper Showing People had set up.

"Loose horse!!" they shrieked as she almost mowed down a kid and pony.

"Don't worry," someone said, "there's the owner."

There the owner was indeed, following dejectedly behind with a rope halter, making despairing little cooing noises and brandishing a carrot. Wynnie didn't give a crap about me or my cooing noises or my carrot. She was having too much fun sowing chaos wherever she went.

"Oh, hey, Firn!" someone yelled.

There was a chorus of greetings from the other Nooitie people with their normal, sweet, well-behaved Nooities while I followed in the wake of the dragon spawn I bred.

She eventually dived underneath a half-unfolded gazebo for some grass and I managed to wrangle her halter on, whereupon she followed me back to her stable as meekly as a lamb.

The meekness didn't last. After her breakfast, I took her up to the horsebox to use our handy-dandy portable wash bay to get some of the stickiness out of her coat. This was a big ask - there were very few other horses visible and the box is a long way from the stables - and Wynnie did make a bit of a scene about this. She called, pawed, tried to push me over, and reared once in protest when I corrected her sharply with the halter. She did settle somewhat after a few minutes, but it wasn't productive, so I called it quits with only her shoulders and flanks clean and then attempted to graze her in the sunshine and get her dry.

We had variable success with this part. She spent much of that time grazing like a good girl, and the rest of it leaping around on her hindlegs in a very annoying manner. To her credit, it wasn't separation anxiety - she was fine about that once she could see other horses close by. It was more a case of being wet, fresh, and bored out of her skull. If I'd given her a five-minute lunge or even just some groundwork in the warmup, I'm willing to bet she would have chilled the heck out.

Anyway, she was at least well-behaved in the stable once we got back and she could entertain herself by eating hay instead of homicide. I polished her coat with Brylcreem - well, that's what I thought I was doing, anyway; turns out I was making artsy little streaks of oiliness all over her - and she was actually very good for me to plait her forelock. I also managed to clip her ears with a bit of clicker training and patience, which was great. Erin fixed her tail, which I hadn't clipped properly, and put on her beautiful checkerboard quarter marks.

Then, while we were still working on the finishing touches, they called our class ten minutes early. This happens to me every single year. I forget that dressage is dressage and you absolutely cannot be forced to go in before your ride time, but showing is showing and does what it wants. Ten minutes isn't a super long time, but it was the time I had set aside to walk Wynnie around and get her brain in gear, and that was the time we ended up not having.

Erin ran a last brush through Wynnie's tail and shoved us in. Rather, Wynnie dragged me in, plunging and snorting in all her draconic finery. She is her mother's daughter in many good ways, but also a few regrettable ones. It felt like wrangling a young (well... even a not-so-young) and angry Arwen as we absolutely charged around the arena with Wynnie doing her best to remove my arms from my sockets and me doing my best to keep a lid on the beast.

There were two key troubles here. The first was just that I hadn't taken enough time to get Wynnie moving around and focused on her job before we went in. The second was that Wynnie did not, in fact, understand the bit as clearly as I thought she did. She'd been so good for her in-hand work at home that I'd barely used the reins at all, only my voice and posture, keeping a smile in the reins like a good little horsewoman. We'd done a lot of lungeing in the stretchy thing, which gives only a really soft and gentle connection and really encourages the horse to go into the bridle and stretch down without any fear of their mouth. This is awesome and everything, but it left me almost entirely without brakes. The more I pulled, the more she merrily pulled, too.

It took me a hot minute to figure this out. By the time I did, we had wrestled each other around the show ring and then had a fairly catastrophic trot during which she exhibited none of her loose and beautiful movement but a few very credible airs above the ground.

To her enormous credit, though, Wynnie never once fidgeted in the halt. Once homegirl was standing, she was standing. It was the moving that was the problem. I stood her up for the judge, who looked her up and down and said, "Walk away and trot back, please, and pray that she behaves."

I did, and she did. We walked away and trotted back without turning a hair, but it was already too late. Wynnie had proven herself a misbehaving renegade and came second to another very gorgeous filly. By the time they handed out the ribbons, I had made the tremendous leap of intellect that perhaps I should stop pulling on the reins and use the same training principles with which I had, in fact, raised the horse. I started to use click and reward every time she behaved instead of merely hauling on her mouth. Miraculously, the horse started to behave the instant I was consistent and clear. Amazing. What a shocker.

I was tired, annoyed, and a little bummed out as we left the arena. Wynnie has been so well-behaved at previous shows that I didn't put much thought into how she would be at this one, so I wasn't expecting to have any difficulty with her. I had the feeling she might have done better if only she'd been more chill when we went in (read: if only I had done the stuff that I should've done, I realize, with my 20/20 hindsight). Also, I was just over it, because we all know how incredibly fun it is to get squished, trampled, and pulled around by an increasingly big and strong young horse.

She stood mostly still as we waited to go back in for the championship, and once we did, she behaved perfectly. When my expectations were clear, she met them. (Amazing how horses behave better when we, like, do the thing correctly). We didn't get any ribbons in the championship, with the first-placed senior mare winning it and the junior winner getting reserve, but at least Wynnie was good and I could look forward to the group class later.

I showed dear old Charlie, who was perfect in every imaginable way and a wonderful experience after wrangling Wynnie (we won't mention that I have fussed over Wynnie's training for three years and this is her fourth HOY, while Charlie had never shown before and we'd only had him four months). Then it was time for little Raya's first ever show.

Raya had been a superstar leading up to this show. My expectations for a baby's first show are super low: load politely, travel without incident, and then have a positive experience the rest of the time. I had her in the stud group class with Wynnie because then she wouldn't even have to trot up by herself - she could merely follow Wynnie. Life was so hectic with prepping eight horses for HOY that we only actually got around to teaching Raya to trot in hand the week before, but she just did it like the perfect angel child she is. She even stood, snoozing, for me to plait and sew in her hair on the Thursday afternoon.

The stud group was right after the geldings, so I didn't even have time to get her ready myself. K and BarnRat did so with variable enthusiasm. I had just enough time to notice that no one had thought to, well, run a brush through Raya's tail before the ring steward was calling us in. I grabbed Wynnie, K grabbed Raya, and in we went.

This time, Wynnie had had the chance to settle, and she was pretty much perfect from the first step. Darling little Raya was an absolute angel from start to finish. She's a quiet little soul, friendly and calm, happy to cooperate as long as she gets a little attention and maybe a treat or two. She followed Wynnie around without a single misstep.

They both stood up beautifully for the judge, who asked if Raya was Wynnie's baby (no, ma'am, she is not, but the resemblance is strong). We then had to walk away and trot back together. We executed a lovely walk and symmetrical turn, and then things went a bit pear-shaped when we started to trot. Wynnie accidentally stood on the edge of one of the tekkies (sneakers?) I'd elected to wear for the in-hand, and it came right off. She barely even stepped on it, to be honest---her foot grazed mine when we trotted off. The show must go on, I decided, so I ran across the show arena with one tekkie and one bright blue socks with cute little dogs wearing sunglasses on it.

I giggled. K was appalled. The judge informed me that I could go back and get my shoe, so I ran back across the arena as everyone watched, grabbed it, shoved it on, and returned to Raya's side. Wynnie, to her credit, was angelic for this part.

A lot of weird and silly things have happened to me in the show ring, but that was definitely a first.

We didn't get any placings in the stud group class (not a huge surprise, as all the different breeders show their very best horses in the group class, and that doesn't usually include growthy little yearlings and misbehaving three-year-olds), but I was just so happy with how little Raya had behaved---and with the fact that Wynnie had finally screwed her head back on straight---that I honestly didn't care.

That wrapped up the stressful in-hand part. It was time to relax, focus, and enjoy the grownup horses in the riding classes.

God is good.